The singer, not the song
by Bookjunk
Summary: Set shortly after the season 2 finale. Birkhoff is trying to figure out what -besides the obvious - feels so weird. It might have something to do with the voice program he selected for his laptop. One-shot.


**The singer, not the song**

First night back at Division and man, it was weird. Not your usual, garden variety weird, but weird weird. Like visiting your parents after having been away at college for a year, but with more trained assassins. Unsettlingly the same and yet different.

Birkhoff initially thought that the weirdness was just that: the result of returning to a once familiar place. The details were off. Stuff had been moved. People had changed. But that wasn't it.

When he couldn't sleep, he tried to figure it out. How difficult could this be? Cracking codes was his thing. Maybe it was the fact that he didn't think this would last long. It made taking up residence at his old desk hard to do. Maybe that was it. Hmmm, no.

Hell, it was him. _He_ had changed.

There was the thing with his hand and the thing with Carla, of course. Vague terms were better when it came to those sorts of things. Kind of depressed him to think about that too, so he didn't. That was not it either.

Somehow he knew that whatever it was that was different about him was both bigger and smaller than torture and murder. A great help that was. By now, Birkhoff had set up a corner with snacks and energy drinks – not that he needed those to stay awake. He sat down, played the latest shoot 'em up and chatted with his computer.

As Nikki would say, he was a lonely nerd. Birkhoff vastly preferred eccentric genius, thank you very much. Semantics. Nikita and Michael had their whole thing going. It was tolerable or nauseating; depended on Birkhoff's mood. Unfortunately, it also meant that he couldn't turn a corner without disturbing an emotional scene between the two of them. So, yeah, he felt left out sometimes. He had decided that this was only natural.

Still, this was a little pathetic. And weird. Yeah, yeah, yeah! Weird. Here he was, in the middle of the night, talking to his computer. That was not weird, per se. He did that all the time. He had had more meaningful conversations with his laptop than with anyone he had ever known. It was weird, however, that it didn't matter what was being said.

Michael had said something once about the voice program Birkhoff had chosen to use. What was it? Something disparaging. Screw him, Birkhoff thought. He happened to like the voice. So what? It had a real bite to it. Seemingly sweet, while really mercilessly mocking you.

_It's the singer, not the song._ That was it. Michael had been smirking too, when he'd said it, like he had known something that Birkhoff didn't. Fuck.

'Surreal, huh?' Nikita said, as she slid down the wall next to him. Startled, he looked at her. She was staring at the recruit training area with a weariness that Birkhoff immediately recognised. Pure disbelief at finding herself here again.

'Yeah,' Birkhoff sighed. He drank the last crisps down with what was left in his can. Some wayward crumbs had ended up on his keyboard. He brushed them off and set the laptop down beside him. Stretching and yawning, he got up and pulled Nikita to her feet.

'Want to dance?' he offered.

'There's no...'

Anticipating her question, Birkhoff leaned down and pressed a few keys. 'Sympathy for the devil' came out of the speakers. Too loudly, so he adjusted the volume.

'Music?' he grinned, while extending his hand towards her. Nikita returned his grin and took his hand. She also took the lead. Unacceptable. They briefly argued over who should lead. Predictably, Nikita won, but she allowed him to lead anyway.

After a few awkward minutes of trying to find a rhythm, they concluded that it wasn't exactly dancing music and separated.

'Do we need to talk about...?' Nikita asked.

'No,' Birkhoff quickly interjected. Sure, he had a bit of a crush on her. Who wouldn't? She was a real life version of Wonder Woman. And he loved her. He was also sure that those two weren't connected. Kiss or no kiss.

'Okay. Get some sleep,' she suggested. He watched her walk away. The laptop switched to 'You can't always get what you want.' Technology clearly did not understand irony. Birkhoff closed his eyes and swayed for a few seconds. That made him feel even more ridiculous, so he opened his eyes.

'Wow, I'm sorry. Didn't mean to intrude. Feel free to go back to dancing. With yourself.'

When he turned around, he discovered that a thoroughly amused Alex was looking at him. He should probably have felt some embarrassment. As it was... meh. He was too busy trying not to freak out.

'I figured you more for a gaming at night kinda guy,' Alex admitted. She shrugged apologetically to soften her earlier harshness. It was pretty fucking adorable.

'What? I've got sides,' he protested. Might as well just go with it, he reasoned. On that note, he beckoned Alex over. She declined.

'Broken arm, remember?' she reminded him, wiggling her sling to prove her point. Birkhoff simply beckoned her over again. In response, she raised an eyebrow, but when he persisted, she hesitantly approached.

He gently took Alex's left hand in his right one, placed his other hand in the small of her back and made sure to not bump against her broken arm. Alex gave in willingly, which thrilled him. She smiled uncertainly, until they established a comfortable routine.

It turned out that not the entire Rolling Stones repertoire was killing for attempts at dancing. For some reason they moved much slower than the song demanded.

'Hey, you're really good,' Alex exclaimed. Birkhoff ignored her amazement and winked.

'I'm a man of many talents.'

He hoped he sounded enigmatic. There was nothing mysterious about his dance skills. Way back when, Birkhoff had been forced to attend dance lessons, because he was supposed to accompany his then girlfriend to a wedding. They had broken up before the wedding. Thank God for that. Weddings weren't really his style.

Unintentionally, Birkhoff brought Alex a little closer. Due to her broken arm, only their hands were touching, but it still felt oddly intimate. Alex gazed quizzically at him.

'I heard that you kissed Nikita.'

Birkhoff nodded nonchalantly as she continued to follow his lead.

'Heard you kissed Sonya too.'

Unable to contain a smirk now, he nodded again.

'You're turning out to be quite the ladies man,' Alex said. Her blue eyes watched him intently. It sent shivers down his spine. He tried not to let it show as he spun her around.

'Bond is out, baby. Q is in,' he quipped. Her hair smelled really nice. Yeah, this was all kinds of fucked up.

'Data...does...not...compute,' Alex droned in a robotic voice. Weirdly, his nerd pride didn't feel insulted at all.

'Cute,' he drily remarked. He expertly dipped her, taking a moment to enjoy the firm feeling of her warm back against his hand before bringing her back up and asking, 'What about you and Sean?'

Alex was silent for so long that Birkhoff expected a guarded response. Protection by deflection. He was pleasantly surprised when she responded truthfully.

'I like him. It's just... I don't know. I keep coming back to 'I like him' and that's pretty much it.'

Her tone was sad, as if she regretted not being able to reciprocate Sean's feelings. Birkhoff had seen them together often enough to know that Sean more than liked her. Obviously, Alex knew it too. She sighed and peered over his shoulder.

'Being back here is weird, right?' she asked.

'Total Twilight Zone,' he answered. She smiled at him. Her eyes were dazzling and – _shit_ - before he knew what he was doing, he was leaning in. The only thing that stopped him was the palm against his chest.

'Hold it right there. Are you planning to set some sort of record?'

_That_. That right there. He loved that. Acerbic wit delivered with that voice. It was hard not to laugh, because she really had no idea. At least he now knew what had changed. Alex took a huge step back and shoved him.

'Well, what was that? You trying to strike some stuff off your bucket list or something?'

Birkhoff had kissed Nikita, because there had been a very real risk that she was going to die. To be honest, he hadn't been thinking clearly and he counted himself lucky that Michael had forgotten to kick his ass. So far.

He had kissed Sonya, because he had been ecstatic that everyone who mattered had survived Nikita's dangerous plan. Classic victory kiss.

He wanted to kiss Alex, because... She was Alex. She was awesome and beautiful. The same could be said of Nikki and Sonya, but Alex possessed something else too. Birkhoff was sure of it. Just because he couldn't say what it was didn't mean it wasn't there. Sonya even had the edge over Alex voice-wise, since she had a sexy British accent, and still it was Alex all the way.

'Your battery is running low,' the computer warned. After a slight pause, it added, 'Might wanna do something about that, Birkhoff.'

Suspiciously, Alex eyed the laptop. Then she looked at Birkhoff.

'That's my voice,' she stated.

'It's from the program Nikita used to communicate with you when you were inside Division,' Birkhoff explained.

'Do you, like, talk to me? My voice, I mean. Do you talk to digital me?' Alex asked. Birkhoff nodded, since he didn't know what else to do. He rubbed his tired eyes. Appearing confused, Alex scratched at the plaster around her arm.

'Why?'

'Cause I like your voice. Cause I like you,' Birkhoff mumbled. He stared at the floor for a couple of beats before looking up. Alex considered his words.

'Do I make fun of you?' she inquired, after a long and agonising silence.

'Just like in real life.'

'Do you like that?'

'I don't mind,' Birkhoff half-lied. He didn't mind; he liked it. Alex still wasn't done questioning him, though.

'Why not?'

'Because I like you, Alex,' he repeated, frustrated. She narrowed her eyes. If she was going to ask why again, he would have to show her. Something suddenly seemed to click.

'Oh,' Alex breathed. She frowned. Waiting for her reaction, Birkhoff picked at his teeth. It was an unattractive nervous tick, but he couldn't help it.

'Plug it in,' she urged, gesturing at the laptop, 'I get another dance, you get another chance.'

Birkhoff obeyed, because, what else was he going to do? They eagerly bridged the distance between them. Their hands fit perfectly. Effortlessly, they moved in time with the music. This time, when he leaned in, no one stopped him. Unhurriedly, his lips moved across her throat to her mouth.

'Salty,' she murmured, when they finally kissed. He kissed her tender and slow. He kissed her rough and fast. He tickled her gums. His tongue tentatively touched hers. He bit her bottom lip, sucked it into his mouth and softly nibbled on it.

It was the best approximately ten minutes of his life and he did everything in his power to prolong the kiss, but eventually it had to end. Reluctantly, they broke apart. Alex chuckled breathlessly.

'Hey. You're really good at this too.'

God, that voice. It was like a purr thinly disguised as a whisper and wrapped in a delicious drawl. Birkhoff thought it was damn hot.

'I don't know whether I want you to speak or not,' he found himself saying. First world dilemma: more talking or more kissing. Both sounded pretty good. Alex made the decision for him when she pressed her body flush against his and whispered in his ear.

'Definitely shut up.'

The end.

(***)

Author's note: Reviews are super welcome.

Disclaimer: The title and all the songs mentioned in the story are Rolling Stones songs.


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